


As The Flower Blooms

by aestivali



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Coming Untouched, Intercrural Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Sex Pollen, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-07 14:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestivali/pseuds/aestivali
Summary: While undertaking a mission on an alien planet, Lance and Shiro encounter some troublesome flora - and need each other's help to ride out the effects.





	As The Flower Blooms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).



"Not much further," says Shiro, studying the display on his wrist.

Lance stretches his arms and chuckles. "And Pidge said this walk would take us hours. We are definitely going to get back to the castle before Keith does."

"It's not a race, Lance," Shiro chides gently.

"Yeah, I know," sighs Lance. "Still, gonna be pretty cool when we roll back in early, heroically delivering this rakashan thingy."

"Raksharan idolcube," corrects Shiro, pushing a large leafy frond out of the way. "And don't count our chickens before they're hatched. We haven't got our hands on it yet, something could still go wrong."

"Come on, what could happen?" asks Lance, ducking as another frond almost smacks him in the face. "We'll just be our awesome paladin selves and they'll hand it right over."

"We'll probably find their village has been eaten by cows," says Shiro, darkly.

Lance chuckles. "Cows? Really, man? I'm offended on Kaltenecker's behalf."

Shiro turns back to look at him, giving him a small grin, then makes a hard left turn. "The signal's pulling us this way."

"Man, if only the lions didn't interfere with it, we could be there by now," says Lance, sidestepping around the strangely blue trunk of a tree.

"Don't be in such a rush, Lance. Just try and enjoy the scenery," says Shiro, ignoring it to squint at the blinking dot hovering above his arm.

"Yeah, the scenery. The fronds that keep trying to attack me, these seriously weird trees, and those enormous... whatever they are." Lance gestures at the huge orange flowers ahead of them, lining the path on both sides. They look somewhat like orchids, but each petal is half as tall as a man, and with strangely pulsing veins.

"The plants aren't trying to attack you, Lance," says Shiro, and starts to move in between the rows of flowers.

"Hey, I've been attacked by a lot of weird things since we left earth. Forgive me for being a little suspicious," Lance says, following him.

"I forgive you," says Shiro - and it's at that point the nearest flower ejects a huge cloud of red pollen.

"Holy crow!" yelps Lance, jumping backwards. This only serves to jostle the flower next to him, causing that to release a red mist too.

"Err," says Shiro, and grabs Lance's arm, pulling him quickly past the rest of the orange monstrosities. Each of them is now bellowing great masses of red pollen at the flower opposite.

"What was that about the plants not attacking me?" says Lance, brushing himself off. Then he wrinkles up his nose and sneezes.

"Technically," begins Shiro, and then pauses to sneeze too, " _Technically_ , they attacked me."

"Well, that makes all the difference," says Lance sarcastically.

Sighing, Shiro wipes his visor clean. "Come on, Lance, this way. Not far now to their village."

As Lance follows him, he feels his nose beginning to itch again. _Maybe I'm allergic to it. Or maybe it's deadly poison,_ he thinks, then shakes himself. _Man, you're as bad as Hunk today._ But after another few minutes of following Shiro through this dense jungle, his nose calms down and Lance manages to convince himself it was nothing.

Finally, they enter a clearing. There are several huts dotted about, and a greater number of aliens - about the size of a child, with wrinkly grey skin, small black eyes, and no visible hair. Most of them are wearing red, and chattering as they mill about. But they all fall silent when they see Lance and Shiro, dressed in their battlesuits, and still covered in the red pollen.

One of the smaller and wrinklier ones steps forward, a large wooden staff clutched in one paw. _Their chieftain, I guess._

"Please, stay where you are," calls the figure, a note of worry in his voice.

"We mean you no harm," says Shiro, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace.

"What you intend and what results are two different things," says the chieftain, sweeping his staff across the dusty ground. "Why have you come here?"

"We are part of the rebellion against the Galra Empire," Shiro says calmly, removing his helmet to let them see his face. "We need something of yours."

The chief makes a low humming noise. "We are no friends of the Galra. What is it you seek?"

"Your raksharan idolcube."

"I see," says the chief, slowly. "Alas, at this time, we cannot give it to you."

"How about I give it to _you_?" says Lance, before he's even realised his mouth is open.

The chief just stares blankly at him.

"Sorry," says Lance, flushing. "That doesn't even make sense, does it?"

Shiro ignores the tangent and returns to negotiation. "I understand your reluctance, but, please, it's an important piece in our fight against the Galra. Have you heard of Voltron?"

"Of course," says the chief. "Have you heard of the paserrion flower?"

"No, but I bet it doesn't compare to your beauty," Lance blurts out, then bites his lip. _What am I even saying?_

"Were those the large orange flowers we passed on the way here?" asks Shiro.

"Yes, I'm afraid they were," says the chief. "And that is why I cannot give you the idolcube - at least, not yet. You will have to remain as our guests tonight."

Lance finds himself butting in again. "Hey, I get wanting me to stick around, but we're paladins. We've got places to be, y'know?"

"It is for your own good," the chief says, sadly. "You see, the paserrion flower has unusual properties. When it is in bloom, those who encounter its pollen experience... intense desires."

"I am definitely experiencing intense desire - for you," says Lance, and then claps his own hand over his mouth. "Holy crow. Is that what's wrong with me?"

"And here I thought you were just being your usual self," Shiro says, with an edge of sarcasm to his voice, then turns back to the chief. "You know this flower. How long do the effects last? Is there a cure?"

"It may be hours, it may be a day or two. I am not familiar with your species," explains the chief, leaning on his staff. "Regardless, once the pollen truly takes hold, you will not be safe among others. I am sorry, but you must be quarantined."

For a few moments, Shiro stares intently at him, frowning. "Okay. But once it's worn off, you will give us the idolcube?"

"I will have Savandra make it ready for you," says the chief, more pleasantly. "Until then, please, we invite you to enjoy our hospitality."

"Hospitality, huh?" says Lance, failing to suppress a smirk. "You gonna make sure we're comfortable?"

"I offer you the privacy of my own hut," says the chief, but when he sees Lance's expression he is quick to continue. "I shall sleep elsewhere. The two of you will have everything you need to ride out the urges of the pollen. Alone."

"That's very kind of you, chieftain," says Shiro, and runs a hand through his hair. Lance can see a blush starting to form on his cheeks.

"Think nothing of it," the chief replies. Then he turns to one of the assembled raksharans. "Issinda, make sure my hut is stocked with all they require." The alien - presumably Issinda - bows to him, and then scurries off.

"So, err," begins Lance, feeling a warmth beginning to spread up the back of his neck, "when you say we won't be safe..."

"We cannot risk you transferring the pollen to us via contact," says the chief.

Lance shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. "But, like, is it dangerous or anything?"

"Dangerous? No, not as such. It will not harm you physically. Mentally... you will experience some temporary changes, but you will retain your own minds."

"Oh, good," says Lance, not at all reassured.

"Is there anything we can do to make it wear off faster?" asks Shiro.

The chief shrugs. "It may go faster if you give in. It will certainly be more pleasant."

"I'll go as fast as you like," quips Lance, and he's actually sort of glad that the other two ignore it.

"What about if we wash the pollen off?" Shiro asks.

"You have already breathed it in," notes the chief. "However, washing would be beneficial to us, as it makes contamination less likely."

"Okay, I get that," says Shiro, looking a little hot and bothered now. "Is there somewhere we can do that?"

"Just stay where you are," says the chief, and gestures behind him.

Lance and Shiro look at each other, then a second later an alien appears at the edge of the crowd, carrying a large clay jug. Shiro reaches out his arm, as if to take it - but instead the alien throws the contents over them, covering them with water that smells slightly of lemons.

"Thanks," splutters Shiro, rivulets of water running down his face. Lance is suddenly glad he kept his own helmet on.

"The juice of the hanisar fruit helps neutralise the pollen in its raw form," says the chief, simply.

Lance claps a hand onto Shiro's shoulder. "It's for the best," he says, airily, though his voice wobbles at being in such close proximity to the man.

"Your wiseness," says another alien, as he approaches the chief, "your hut is readied."

"Thank you, Issinda," says the chief, and then turns to the two paladins, who are still dripping. "Please, if you will make your way...?" He uses his staff to gesture behind them, and they turn to look. Not far off is a large hut, built of thatch and woven sticks, and with the door invitingly open.

Shiro takes the first step towards it, and the crowd of raksharans immediately scatters, leaving the path completely empty.

"Wow, totally not ominous," mutters Lance.

Shiro looks back and gives him a smile. "Come on, we've had worse," he says, and leads the way. Lance sighs, and follows.

Inside, the hut turns out to be surprisingly homely. There is a large, low bed in the centre, and nearby sits a table piled high with juicy-looking fruit, as well as a couple of jugs, some cups, and a few towels. The floor is covered with mats made of woven reeds that crunch lightly underfoot. But Lance has barely taken more than two steps into the room before the door crashes shut behind them.

Shiro instantly turns back, frowning, and tugs experimentally on the handle.

"I think they've locked us in," he says when it doesn't open.

"Quarantine, I guess," says Lance, and pulls off his own helmet. He sighs as the cool air hits his skin. _Or maybe my skin is warm._

"Yeah," agrees Shiro, and paces across the room to grab a towel. He throws one to Lance, then takes another himself. "Nothing to do now but wait."

"Yeah," echoes Lance, and begins to dry himself off, dropping his helmet on the floor.

"Are you hungry?" says Shiro, gesturing to the table in between dabs. "I don't know how much they think we eat, but there's enough here to last us a week."

"Man, we'd better not be here that long," says Lance, wiping the last of the water from his legs. "The others will wonder what happened to us."

Shiro shakes what moisture he can from his hair. "If the raksharans don't let us out tomorrow, we'll break down the door."

"Ugh, tomorrow," moans Lance, and flops onto the edge of the bed. "There goes my heroic early return."

"Sorry," says Shiro, smiling a little, as he perches himself next to Lance.

"Come on, it's not your fault," says Lance, stretching his legs. "You didn't spray us with pollen. I mean, you ignored me when I said the plants were dangerous, and you led us right through those flowers, but... okay, yeah, it's totally your fault."

"I said the fronds weren't dangerous," argues Shiro, stretching as well. "I didn't say anything about the flowers."

"Don't try to weasel out of it," says Lance, grinning, and affectionately punches Shiro's arm. But he immediately regrets that when it sends a flush of heat through his body.

Judging by the way Shiro's cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, he's experiencing a similar reaction.

"Sorry," mutters Lance. "Maybe we should... not touch."

"Probably a good idea," says Shiro, and leans back on the bed, positioning himself as close to the edge as possible. Lance looks at him for a moment, at Shiro stretched out like that, then swallows and moves to lie down at the other edge.

They lie there in silence for a few minutes. All the while, Lance feels a strange heat growing in his skin. He tries to ignore it, to ignore the knowledge that Shiro is right behind him, but his brain just keeps circling back around to the same thoughts. _Hot. Heat. Shiro._

"Is it just me," he blurts out, "or is it getting warm in here?"

"I think the pollen's given us some sort of fever," says Shiro, sounding a little hoarse. "Maybe we should take off our suits."

"Yeah, take off our suits," Lance says faintly, trying not to picture Shiro naked and failing. But then he hears a rustle behind him, and he rolls over to see Shiro expertly peeling his battlesuit off. Lance swallows and, before he even knows what he's doing, his hands are working on removing his own.

As Shiro slips out of his suit, leaving him just in his underwear, their eyes meet for a second. There's something dark and hungry in Shiro's look, and Lance has the urge to jump at him, but instead he fumbles on with stripping down. Shiro quickly breaks the gaze and lies back down, facing away from him. Lance gets the feeling Shiro's ignoring him; he doesn't blame him.

Soon Lance too is just in his underwear, and he drops his suit on the floor before curling up on the edge of the bed. His skin feels cooler now, but somehow... inside, in his veins, he feels warmer.

There's a part of him that wants to take off his underpants too - _or Shiro's, that'd be good_ \- to alleviate the heat as much as possible, but little bubbles of embarrassment flutter up beneath it. Especially when he feels his cock stir.

Lance glares down at it. _Seriously? Look, I know Shiro is right there, and half-naked, and really hot... but Shiro is right there, little guy! We cannot do this now!_

Unhelpfully, his cock ignores his psychic pleas.

Lance suppresses a groan and shuts his eyes, trying to think of the least sexy thing he can. _Three pounds of blue cheese. A dog covered in mud. Iverson in a tutu._

It doesn't work; he only ends up feeling sick _and_ horny.

And, no matter what he focuses on, with every passing moment his cock is getting harder. It's aching now, too, and his skin is still burning. Lance grumpily shifts on the bed, and then hisses at the sensation of the sheets on his sensitive skin.

"You okay, Lance?" calls Shiro, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," chokes Lance. "You okay?"

"I'm... okay." Shiro's voice is low and thick, and Lance can tell he's also struggling. _Is he hard too? Wait, don't think about that._

But it's too late. Images fill Lance's head. Shiro's cock, standing proud. Shiro's cock, heavy in his hand. Shiro smiling, as Lance leans down to...

 _No, no, no._ Lance squeezes his eyes more tightly, biting his lip, as if that will stop the thoughts from spilling out. But holding them in is like water building behind a dam: he can feel the pressure of them, growing inside him, growing in his cock.

He shoves his hands into his armpits, trying desperately not to touch himself. But his dick doesn't need his help; the pollen is working its magic, filling him with heat and need, urging him higher with every moment. His cock is straining against the fabric of his underwear, twitching slightly, and just that little bit of friction is enough - is enough -

With a small, shameful moan, Lance comes.

He's still shuddering when he hears Shiro roll over.

"Lance, are you...?"

Lance twists his head to look, and he knows his face is red, his pupils wide and dark, and the truth of what just happened is plain to see.

"Lance?"

Shiro hesitantly reaches out towards him.

"S-Sorry," stutters Lance, wishing he wasn't already at the edge of the bed so he had some room to move away. "I couldn't - I couldn't stop -"

"Oh, Lance," Shiro says gently, and as Lance looks down he sees Shiro is very visibly hard.

 _He wants me._ Lance swallows, and rolls over to face him properly.

Shiro's eyes immediately flicker to the wet patch on Lance's underwear, and for a moment Lance regrets revealing it - but then Shiro gives him a soft smile and reaches out to cup his cheek. "It's hard, isn't it?"

Lance groans. "Couple of very hard things right now."

Despite himself, Shiro chuckles. "We are in a mess, aren't we."

Lance looks down at his underpants. "I'm definitely lying in a mess."

Shiro slowly inhales. Then he says, "Do you want to take them off?"

Lance swallows. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah."

Shiro pulls back, and politely averts his eyes as Lance slips out of the soaked fabric. But, Lance notices, he does sneak a glance as Lance's cock is revealed. And he hears Shiro moan softly too.

"The chief..." begins Shiro, trying desperately not to look. "The chief said it might help to give in."

Lance looks down at his own dick. It's barely even softened, and he can feel it hardening again. "I don't think that was enough," says Lance, fear tinging his voice.

Shiro does look at him then, a sad, sympathetic look, and somehow he manages to confine it to Lance's face. _How does he have that willpower?_ wonders Lance, even as his own gaze begins to drift back to where Shiro's cock is tenting his underwear.

"Lance," Shiro says hesitantly, "if you wanted - if you - we could -"

Lance's heart leaps. _Shiro's offering to have sex with me? Okay, wow. It's not like I haven't thought about him before, I mean, the guy is ridiculously handsome, but I never dreamed... Holy crow._

A frown flickers across Shiro's brow, and Lance realises he hasn't said anything, he's just silently staring at the gorgeous half-naked man who propositioned him.

"Yes," he says quickly. Instantly, Shiro looks relieved - and needy, and something else Lance can't quite identify through the fog in his brain.

"Okay," Shiro says softly. Then he shuffles a little way across the bed, and cups Lance's cheek again, brushing the warm skin with his thumb.

Lance takes a sharp breath, and edges closer. He stares deep into Shiro's eyes, wanting to touch him, but not really sure how or where.

Shiro - older, experienced Shiro - seems to have no such worries. He leans in, slowly, carefully, giving Lance time to move back if he wants to refuse, and then presses their lips together.

If Lance didn't feel like he was on fire before, he does now. Desire surges through his veins, and he feels blood surge back to his cock. He lets out a soft moan against Shiro's mouth, and Shiro takes the opportunity to lick into him, just briefly, the lightest flick of his tongue.

With that, Lance is lost, and he reaches up to grab at Shiro's back, clutching at him, desperately drinking in the feel of skin on skin. He slips his own tongue into Shiro's mouth, and, holy crow, it's so warm and wet, and Shiro's tongue is rolling against his, and with the pollen's magic in his veins this might just be the best kiss he's ever had. He groans again, shifting closer, wanting more of this, more of Shiro.

Shiro's hand slips down from his cheek to dally at his chest, stroking over the muscles there, hard won in the many training sessions they shared, and then swirls around one of his nipples. Lance gasps into Shiro's mouth, and lets his own hand travel down to Shiro's ass.

He's disappointed when he discovers it's still covered by his underwear. He squeezes the flesh underneath, then fingers at the waistband. "Can you...?" he asks, breaking the kiss for a moment.

"Yeah," says Shiro, and he pulls away - _torture, torture_ \- and then he's slipping his underwear off, letting his hard cock spring free, and oh - _bliss_. It's long and thick and a little curved; a treasure that Lance never thought he'd get to see. Or touch. But he wants to, he wants to -

Lance reaches out, slowly, and wraps his fingers around that hot, hard length, feeling the marvelous weight of it against his palm. Shiro groans and thrusts shallow into his grip, and Lance squeezes a little tighter, pumping once up and down the shaft.

Shiro's hands shoot up and grab him by the shoulders, pulling him closer. "Lance, please -"

Lance nods, not really knowing what Shiro is asking but wanting it anyway. He's on fire, and he wants this, wants more, wants _Shiro_.

Shiro drags them together until their bodies are touching, their hard cocks pressed between them. Lance shivers, and rubs his thumb over the head of Shiro's cock. The skin is silky smooth, and impossibly warm, and it's amazing - like touching his own dick, but different, but _better_.

Letting out a little grunt, Shiro thrusts against him, and reaches down to take hold of Lance's dick. _No, I was wrong,_ thinks Lance. _This - this is better._

It gets even better than that a moment later, when Shiro starts to stroke him up and down. The rough skin of his hand generates incredible friction. And Lance is already so sensitive, he's already come once, and he's still hard, and there's that fire in his veins -

"D-Do you think they left us any lube?" he manages to stutter out.

Shiro pauses, looking at him dazedly, as if he's having trouble thinking. Then he says, "Maybe," and lets go of Lance to lean over him and investigate the jugs on the table. One of them, the second one he tries, apparently does contain lube, because Shiro's face lights up and he plunges his hand in, then moves back down to slick up both their cocks. Lance moans as Shiro's hand slides easily over his dick, coating it, taking the edge off the sensation, from _too much_ to _just right_.

In another few seconds, Shiro is grabbing at him again, pressing their bodies back together, and Lance takes that as his cue to start rutting against him. Each thrust is different; sometimes his cock rubs against Shiro's chest, sometimes against Shiro's own cock, sometimes both at once. And Shiro himself is thrusting now too, adding another sensation as Shiro's dick slides over his stomach. It's fast and frantic and uncoordinated, each jerk and twitch a new surprise, bringing pleasure upon pleasure as Lance feels another orgasm curling in his gut. He'd get there quicker, he thinks, if they had a proper pace, but he's flying high on instinct, and he doesn't want to change, to stop -

"Wait," gasps Shiro. "Wait a minute."

Lance feels a cold twist in his stomach. _He's changed his mind._ "Shiro?" he mutters, forcing himself to still.

"Let me just -" Shiro parts his own legs a little, then slips his hand between them to slick up the skin of his thighs. Lance watches, mesmerised, his cock still twitching against the hard muscles of Shiro's chest. Then Shiro grabs his dick, a quick but not harsh motion, and lines it up with the gap. "Go," he says.

It takes Lance's brain a few moments to process that single word, still reeling from the touch upon his cock - then he catches up with himself, and gladly pushes into the small space.

Shiro groans, squeezing his thighs around Lance - tight, but not too tight. It's blissfully warm, and the hard muscles press beautifully against his sensitive flesh. Lance groans too, and begins to thrust again.

The lube means he easily slips forwards and backwards, but it does nothing to dull the friction of Shiro's skin rubbing on his. With every thrust, every push, he can feel himself spiralling higher. Not only that, but Shiro's little grunts are urging him on, a wonderfully erotic sound, and each breath also gusts across his face, his neck, his shoulder - tracing a chill path that makes him shiver in delight. It's a strange sort of penetration, not one he'd have thought of, but Shiro definitely seems to be enjoying it - and Lance finds that he does too. _We're not just having sex,_ he thinks. _I'm fucking him. Holy crow. I'm fucking him, and he asked me to do it._

Lance thrusts faster, trying to find a true rhythm, forcing his cock between two parts of Shiro's body, making soft wet sounds as it goes. In return Shiro is rutting against him, hard dick jabbing against his stomach, one hand pressing into Lance's shoulder, keeping him close. From the way Shiro's shaking, Lance thinks he might be close - hopes that he is, because he's pretty close too, and it won't take many more of these hot slicks thrusts before he's... before he's...

Lance doesn't even finish the thought before he's spilling himself over Shiro's thighs. Dimly, through his own orgasm, he hears Shiro groan, then feels him judder against him.

They both collapse back onto the bed, sweaty and panting. Lance can feel his heart hammering in his chest, and he sucks in a deep lungful of air - it's warm and thick, and smells of sex. _Sex. The sex I just had. With Shiro._ Lance swallows, and runs his tongue over his lips. _First time I've ever done that with another person._ He glances over at Shiro, who catches his eye.

Shiro props himself up on one elbow, still breathing hard - but maybe not as hard as Lance. _This guy and his ridiculous physical abilities..._

"You okay?" Shiro asks.

"Yeah," says Lance. "I'm okay. Better than okay. I'm peachy."

Shiro chuckles. "Your ass definitely is."

Lance pulls a mock-offended face. "Wow, Shiro, that line is almost bad enough to be one of mine."

"Almost," says Shiro, patting him on the hand. "Maybe one day I'll reach your level."

"Only if you study hard," declares Lance, with an air of seriousness. But he can't maintain it, and he's soon giggling.

Shiro starts laughing too, then flops back against the bed and stretches out. He's quiet for a few seconds, before he looks down at his still half-hard cock and says, "That didn't help as much as I was hoping."

Lance looks down at his own dick, and sees it in similar condition. His skin isn't burning quite as much as before, but it has abated a little - though already he can feel it creeping back...

He swallows. "Maybe we should go again."

Shiro looks at him in silence for a few seconds. "Maybe. Or maybe... we need to do more."

Lance's stomach clenches. "...More?"

"Well, just thinking about it," says Shiro, slowly, "if we can speed this up by feeding it, then maybe the fastest way to satisfy it is to feed it as much as possible."

Lance pauses, struggling to follow him. "That kinda makes sense."

Shiro sighs and stretches again. "Kinda, yeah. Nothing much makes sense right now."

"Yeah," agrees Lance. "And it's getting more difficult to think by the second." The brief slice through the fog is rapidly closing over, as his cock stirs itself again.

"Good job this doesn't take much thinking," says Shiro, smiling.

Lance smiles back, but it's more hesitant. _Maybe if you know what you're doing..._

"So, err," he begins, trying to sound casual, "when you say more..."

"I mean... what if you put your dick in me?"

And just like that, Lance is fully hard again.

"Well, I, umm," he chokes. "I - I could do that, I guess."

"You sure? You don't sound it. We can do it the other way if you'd rather, I'm just guessing you've not had anything up there before," Shiro says, and it's so earnest and kind that Lance can't even be offended. "And it's getting a little urgent."

Lance looks down at Shiro's cock and, yep, he's hard again too. Already. They're definitely going to have to do this.

Not that Lance minds.

"Okay," says Lance, forcing his swirling brain to summon up every fantasy he's ever had of fucking anyone. They may not be accurate, but they're all he's got. "So, just... lift up your knees, yeah?"

He feels ridiculous as soon as he says it, but Shiro just nods and complies.

Lance has to stop to drink in that sight - of Shiro just casually lying there, open for him to see, ready and waiting for him to slide in and...

But he stares too long, and Shiro has to prompt him. "Lube?"

"Oh, err," mumbles Lance. "Yeah, lube." 

_Good job he said,_ thinks Lance, as he reaches to grab more lube. _I had no idea that... But I guess, with a guy...? Oh, man, what if I do this wrong?_ He freezes in the middle of slicking up his cock. _I mean, I've fancied a few dudes, but I don't really know how they - well, I know where it goes, but - man, Shiro's going to think I'm an idiot. Good luck impressing the garrison heartthrob._

Again, Shiro's voice breaks his reverie. "Lance?"

"Sorry, sorry," Lance says quickly, and settles himself between Shiro's legs. But then he pauses again, staring at the task before him, and even through his desire some hesitation must show on his face, because Shiro starts to look concerned.

"Lance, are you okay?" he asks gently.

For a few moments, Lance considers. _Do I lie and say I'm fine? I mean, I am fine. Kinda. But also I'm kinda not fine. And I really don't want to mess this up._ He takes a deep breath and looks over Shiro again. _But if there's anyone who's going to be understanding about this..._

Lance straightens up. "Yeah. I just... don't really know what I'm doing here. How do guys...?"

Shiro smiles softly, and somehow even though he's the one lying there with his legs open, it makes Lance feel like the vulnerable one. The vulnerable one that Shiro is going to thoroughly look after. Lance smiles back.

"Just do it like you would with a woman," Shiro says simply.

"Err," says Lance.

Shiro looks slightly confused. "Lance?"

"I've never actually..." Lance swallows, and then forces the truth out of his mouth. "This is my first time."

"Oh," Shiro says softly. "I always assumed... You're a good-looking guy. Your flirting is terrible, but - I thought - somebody must've taken you up on it..."

Between the desire and the embarrassment, Lance is now thoroughly flushed. "Hey! My flirting isn't that bad!"

Shiro gives him a look that, even filtered through several layers of _I really want you to fuck me_ , clearly says: _Yes, it is that bad._ But he's too polite to say it aloud.

"Shut up," Lance says regardless. "Anyway, I've kinda been busy. You know. Saving the universe?"

"I know," Shiro says gently, "but I didn't think that I - that this -" Shiro swallows, looks down at the sweat and come already between them, then back at Lance.

Lance shrugs, leans a little closer. "I didn't say."

"I should have asked."

"Come on, man," Lance says, waving a hand. "Neither of us is thinking straight."

"That doesn't make things better. God, Lance, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry," says Lance, leaning over him. "Really, really do not be sorry."

Shiro lets out a long, slow breath and arches beneath him. "Hard to be anything right now."

"Yeah," Lance swallows. "I really want -"

" _Please,_ " moans Shiro.

"I don't know what I'm doing," repeats Lance.

"It's mostly instinct," says Shiro. "Once you're inside me, your body will know what to do."

 _Once you're inside me._ Lance's stomach lurches at those words, at what they mean - at the thought of what comes next. "Fuck," he says eloquently.

Shiro lets out a laugh, desperate and breathy; his sculpted chest heaves with the motion and, holy crow, even without this strange alien pollen urging them on, Lance would be incredibly turned on by that sight.

He leans forward, taking his aching cock in hand, and carefully, hesitantly, presses the tip to Shiro's entrance.

Shiro moans, spreading his knees wider. An invitation if there ever was one.

Lance licks his lips, looks down at his positioned cock, then up at Shiro's face. He takes a deep breath, then pushes forward.

The outer ring of muscle admits him eagerly, and Shiro's mouth falls open. Lance suspects his own mouth has too, but he's not aware of it, not aware of anything except the heat in his blood and the even more glorious heat upon the head of his cock. It is the merest hint of penetration, but Shiro's body clutching at the most sensitive part of him is already almost more than he can bear - and yet he needs more, he needs so much more, the fire in his blood demands it.

Slowly, carefully, Lance presses further in. His arms, his legs, everything is trembling. It's all new and strange and amazing; he wants to rush ahead and to savour it; to fuck Shiro wildly and to respect the unknown limits of his partner's body. He knows Shiro's desperate - he's desperate too - but he doesn't want to hurt him. He wants so many things, but he doesn't want to hurt him.

Shiro grunts as Lance's blunt head pushes against the deeper, tighter ring of muscle just inside. "Y-You okay?" mutters Lance, and it's a struggle to get the words out.

"Keep going," groans Shiro, screwing his eyes shut.

Lance can't - won't - argue with that. He pushes harder, feels that hot, tight muscle resist, resist, resist... _stretch..._

Shiro lets out a long, slow moan as the head of Lance's cock presses inside him, holding that intimate circle of muscle wide as it passes through, opening him up. Lance can feel it clutching at him, so warm and tight and _good._ He's never felt anything like this. Fuck, it's so much. _(Not enough.)_ But he doesn't stop. Fraction by fraction, Shiro takes in his head.

Lance looks down at the place where they're joined, at the place where his body slips _inside_ Shiro's, at the unbelievably erotic sight of his cock disappearing into the warm hole of the man he's admired for so long. Even in his wildest dreams, he'd never really dared to imagine that he would actually -

A whine - maybe pain, maybe pleasure - makes Lance's attention snap back to Shiro's face.

"Sh-Shiro?" he gasps, holding himself still. "Am I going too fast?"

Lifting up his arms (one flesh, one metal, both warm) Shiro grabs desperately at Lance's ass, trying to pull him closer. " _More,_ " is all he says.

"Yeah," agrees Lance, and resumes pushing forward.

The long slow slide into Shiro is exquisite and painful and the most intense thing Lance has ever felt. His cock is so hard, so hot, and Shiro's tight channel is radiating that heat right back against every inch of his shaft. _Is it meant to be this hot? Is it because of the pollen?_ He doesn't know, and he kind of doesn't care - he just wants to sink further and further in, to make Shiro take his entire length, until he's completely buried inside him, his body joined with his hero's in the most intimate way.

Underneath him, Shiro is groaning - but he's still pulling at Lance, tugging him closer, so Lance doesn't stop. He just presses forwards, lets that tight hole have his cock, inch by inch. He can feel Shiro's muscles twitching around him, clenching in time as Shiro shudders.

And then he's fully inside, his hips bumping up against Shiro's, and he can go no further.

"Fuck," he says softly, and swallows.

Shiro just moans and rolls his hips.

Lance wants to stay like this, to enjoy the sensation before he starts moving, the incredible warmth of Shiro's body holding this intimate part of him like nobody has ever held him before. _Shit, this is it,_ he realises. _This is me losing my virginity. Actually, for real, losing my virginity. To Shiro. With my dick up his ass. Holy shit._ And Shiro, lost in desire, is looking up at him like he's the most incredible thing he's ever seen. Lance takes another moment to file that image away, to savour it later, before the heat inside him bubbles over and he can't help but start to thrust.

At first they're shallow, gentle thrusts. He doesn't know if Shiro could take more - maybe he could - but Lance doesn't think he can take it himself. It's overwhelming, the heat and the tightness and the sight of Shiro, the smell of him, the slick sounds his hole makes as Lance slips out, in, out. Lance feels like he's on fire, and he knows another orgasm is close. He doesn't want to come yet, he knows it's too soon, and he tries to push it back, but the heat on him and inside him is so much, just so much.

"Sh-Shiro," he stutters, "I'm gonna -"

"Just let go," groans Shiro.

So he does. With a final, deeper thrust, Lance comes inside him, feeling his pleasure unravel even as Shiro's body holds him in place. It leaves him speechless, barely seeing, not aware of anything, even the man lying under him.

"Sorry," he mutters, when he finally comes back to himself. "I know you didn't - But I couldn't -"

"It's okay," Shiro says gently, and runs a hand through Lance's hair. "It was your first time, right? It's always quick the first time."

Lance nods, still feeling a little guilty. "Do you, err - Do you want me to pull out?"

Shiro shakes his head. "Pretty sure you'll be hard again soon. Not that you've really gone soft. I can still feel you inside me."

 _I can still feel you inside me._ Lance's stomach twists as those words echo in his mind. He's inside Shiro. He's having sex with Shiro - and Shiro's having sex with him. All the pleasure he's been feeling, the friction, the heat... Shiro's been feeling it too, from the other side.

Lance groans, feeling his cock twitch.

Shiro chuckles. "Already?"

"Shut up," mutters Lance. "Magical space pollen, remember? Also, teenager."

"Hey," says Shiro, his smile lifting his reddened cheeks. "I'm not complaining."

"You better not be," says Lance, giving him a mock glare. But the effect is rather spoiled by the raw need written on his face, and the rapidly hardening cock that Shiro can surely feel inside him.

Shiro arches his back, and leans up for a kiss. "Why would I argue when I want you to fuck me?"

"You wouldn't," says Lance, giving in to the kiss for the last little portion of his recovery. "Because you know what's good for you."

And without warning, he quickly pulls halfway out of Shiro and then thrusts right back in.

Shiro groans deeply underneath him. "Definitely not arguing," he murmurs, clutching at Lance's back.

"Good," says Lance, his confidence buoyed up by Shiro's reaction, "because The Lance-Man is about to work his magic."

Shiro laughs breathlessly, and the movement shifts him on Lance's cock, sending a jolt of pleasure right up into his balls. _How does he do that when he's not even trying? How is he so ridiculously perfect?_ wonders Lance.

But he doesn't stop to consider that any longer; instead he starts to set up a new pace, a little faster than before, but not too speedy - his oversensitive cock is overwhelmed by all the friction, even as the fire in his blood demands ever more. At first, the resumed sensation of Shiro's inner channel rubbing against his dick is enough to sate that hunger - but despite the heat, the tight muscles clutching at him, the delicious back and forth, soon the heat in his veins outweighs the needs of his cock. And then he starts to thrust faster, gasping each time, as his cock aches with the intensity, begging him to stop, begging him to continue.

Shiro is audibly begging him too. "Lance, please, please - oh - Lance, more, please." It's just a stream of words tumbling out of his mouth, the least coherent Lance has ever heard him. But Lance is in no position to feel superior. He needs it just as much, the urge inside him driving him forward, his world narrowing down to just the one single point where their bodies are joined. It's so hot, and so good, and the friction is too much but exactly what he needs, so he keeps thrusting, keeps pushing his hard cock into Shiro again and again.

Shiro is gasping and begging and clutching at him, and Lance wants to hold him, to pull him close, to be as much in him, around him, as it's possible to be. He gets his wish when Shiro lifts his legs and wraps them around his waist, gripping him tight, not letting him slip away. And Lance can tell Shiro's close, because every part of him is shaking like he's about to fall apart.

Balancing himself carefully, and not letting up the pace, Lance reaches one hand down between them and starts to tug at Shiro's cock.

Shiro's eyes go wide, and he clings to Lance more desperately, and Lance gives him a smirk and pumps harder. And then Shiro - gorgeous, clever, talented, _amazing_ Shiro - is yelling as he comes, intimate muscles clenching and releasing wildly around Lance's full length.

If Lance thought Shiro was tight before, this sensation is something new. He moans, thrusting into Shiro still, but his pace is off now, he can't think straight, can't make his body move how he wants. It's all too much, his mind and body both tired, and yet he wants more, needs more.

Panting hard, he keeps pushing in, drawing out, feeling his sensitive skin whine and sing as Shiro's inner muscles drag over it, a pleasure so deep it's pain and pain so deep it's pleasure. It's almost enough to make him cry. Every bit of him is on fire: his cock, his arms, his legs, his blood, his heart. This is all he wants, forever more, to be lost inside Shiro's body, not aware of anything else - not the sheets underneath him, not their suits on the floor, not the war raging across the universe. Nothing but this, and this, and this.

But he can feel his end approaching. It's twirling through his stomach, tightening in his balls, wrapping around his cock as he presses in, over and over. He doesn't want to let it go, but he can't - he can't any more -

And then he's coming, spilling inside Shiro again, groaning and burying his face in the man's neck as he presses his cock in as far as it will go, one last time. 

He stays there, breathing hard, held in place by Shiro's legs, as he slips down from his high. He can hear Shiro whispering, but he's not sure of the words, and Shiro's hands are slowly rubbing over his back. Lance doesn't say anything, too worn out for thoughts, let alone speech. Eventually Shiro lowers his legs and Lance pulls out, collapsing beside him.

There is silence for several long minutes - the longest respite they've had since this ordeal began. When Lance is finally capable of words again, he asks, "Do you think that's it?"

"I don't know," Shiro says quietly, then leans over and gently plants a kiss on his cheek. "Maybe you should try to sleep, either way."

"Yeah," says Lance. His skin still feels hot, but he's so tired now, so tired. If he could have a nap, at least, before they continue...

He doesn't know if it's over. But as he looks at the man beside him - so kind, so strong - he hopes that something is just beginning.


End file.
